Hungry Heart: Konigsburg, Texas, Book 8 (37 page)

Rankin turned back to Chico. “Son, this is some pork you got here.”

Chico shrugged. “Family recipe.”

Rankin nodded. “Just the right amount of bite—not too much to taste the meat. This here’s superlative.”

“Thanks.” He dished up two more plates and handed them back to Andy.

Rankin pushed himself to his feet. “Got to get back up to the judges’ tent. I’m first alternate on chicken.”

Harris frowned. They still didn’t know whether they were being disqualified. He glanced at Chico. The big man shook his head slightly.

Rankin nodded at Harris and Chico, smiling at Darcy and Andy. “See you all at the judging.”

Darcy frowned. “So what’s the verdict?”

Chico gave her a dry smile. “Who knows? At least he liked the pork.”

Harris watched Rankin stroll up the aisle, stopping to talk to contestants as he went. He hoped having superlative pork would get them through whatever came next, but he was afraid to trust it. Given the way his luck was currently running, Rankin might end up with a serious case of indigestion.

The results of the competition were supposed to be announced in the late afternoon, after the judges had had a chance to tally up their scores and take a couple of antacids. Andy held tight to Chico’s hand as they stood in the crowd of contestants, partly to keep him from searching out Lew and reducing him to a pulp and partly because she just liked to hold his hand.

The Burnside family was in full force around them. Andy had given up trying to remember the names of all the cousins. She thought she had a handle on Chico’s brothers and sisters, but even that was a little shaky. Blanca stood in front of her son, her arm around her husband’s waist. Alfredo Burnside was maybe a head shorter than his wife, but he was built like a fire plug, and most of his upper body looked to be solid muscle. He’d given Andy a robust kiss on the cheek when they’d been introduced and every time he looked her way, his eyes twinkled. Andy figured she’d been accepted into the family. The idea made her a little dizzy, but on the whole she thought she could cope.

She had the feeling the Burnside family would be doing a little mass blocking if Lew was unwise enough to try to take up the fight again with Chico after he won his contests.

And Lew was bound to win. He always did, one way or another.

Darcy and the King stood on the other side of Chico. The King had pulled on a fresh black T-shirt to replace the sweat-stained one he’d been wearing all day. He’d also replaced his battered, black, goat-roper hat with a resplendent Stetson, complete with a concho-studded, peacock-feather hatband. Darcy’s white-blond hair stood defiantly on end. They made a kickass couple.

Although not as kickass as she and Chico, in her humble opinion.

At the stroke of four, Horace Rankin stepped up to the podium, staring at the handheld mike as if it might be venomous. He brandished a stack of papers in his hand, which he placed carefully on the podium. “Okay, y’all, these’re the results. When we read your name, you come on up and get your ribbon or your trophy. Pictures after we read all the names off. Got that?” He glanced around the crowd as if he expected someone to object. Nobody did.

“Okay then, let’s start with the non-professional division and the chickens.”

The non-professional results droned on for what seemed to be a very long time. Several of the judges considered themselves comedians, which made their presentations particularly painful. The crowd began to get restless.

Andy took a quick survey of the people she could see. Lew stood at the far edge, surrounded by his black-clad team. It looked as if he’d added a few more people since she’d seen him last, probably to allow him to enter more categories. He could easily take prizes in more than one. He did, regularly.

She took a deep breath. There was no point in taking this dispute personally. Even though that was the way Lew had meant it.

Horace Rankin made his way back to the podium as the last group of winners shook hands with their judges. “All right,” he said, “that takes care of the nonprofessionals. All of you winners go on and get your pictures taken. You can pick your prizes after that. Got some real nice gift cards over there.”

The nonprofessionals rarely got any prize money, at least in Andy’s experience. The professionals, on the other hand, could pick up some serious cash. She renewed her grip on Chico’s hand.

“Now for the professional prizes. We’ll start with chicken here too.”

Andy didn’t recognize the names of any of the men who won prizes for their chicken recipes. Or for the seafood winners, as far as that went. Lew had always sneered at barbecued fish since so little time on the grill was involved. She suspected it was more a case of Lew not being adept enough to get the fish right.

“All right then,” Horace intoned. “Now we got ribs.”

Andy leaned forward. Ribs were one of Lew’s specialties. It would be an upset if somebody was able to knock him off his throne.

Unfortunately, nobody did. After first place was announced, Lew stood in front of the audience, holding his blue ribbon over his head and smiling smugly. It might have been Andy’s imagination, but she felt as if the Burnside family had leaned a little closer together, a few of them moving in front of Chico, when Lew had walked up front.

Chico’s expression stayed impassive, but he didn’t applaud. Neither did Andy.

When Horace returned to the microphone he didn’t so much as glance Lew’s way. “Pulled pork is next,” he said.

Chico narrowed his eyes. Otherwise, his expression stayed unchanged.

The third-place winner owned a barbecue joint in Marble Falls. Number two was a caterer in New Braunfels.

“And now, number one.” The judge waved the envelope at the crowd, grinning.

Chico’s fingers tightened on hers, but his face stayed impassive. Lew glanced their way, his eyes narrowed.

The judge tore open the envelope, then frowned down at the paper before looking back at the crowd. “Well, this is a first. We got ourselves a tie for first place. Burke’s Barbecue Bandits and Barbecue Royale! Come up here and get your ribbons, y’all.” He grinned back and forth between Chico and Lew.

Andy’s shoulders clenched tight. For a moment neither man moved, then Chico stepped forward. Lew stayed rooted in place, his gaze murderous.

The judge handed Chico a blue ribbon. His smile seemed a little nervous all of a sudden. Chico nodded his thanks, then turned back toward the Burnsides, holding up the ribbon with one of his less terrifying smiles. The crowd applauded lustily as he headed back to the side.

The judge glanced toward Lew, who stared stonily past him at Chico’s retreating back. The judge shrugged. “That concludes pulled pork.”

Chico smiled down at her. “Well, that was a surprise.”

She nodded, tearing her gaze away from Lew. Who cared what he did? She went up on her tiptoes to give Chico a kiss.

Beef ribs were next and they went quickly. Then came brisket.

While Horace introduced the brisket judges, Darcy leaned on the King, wrapping one arm securely around his waist and resting her cheek against his shoulder. Andy wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be moral support, but she followed suit, leaning against Chico’s side. She glanced across the room and caught Lew staring at her.

Go ahead. Stare at us. It doesn’t bother me anymore.
She snuggled closer, and Chico put his arm around her shoulders. Lew’s jaw firmed and he looked away, scowling.

“Okay, here’s your winners for brisket—far as I’m concerned that’s Texas meat right there.” The lead brisket judge grinned at the crowd. He got a few yells in response and a smattering of applause.

Just get on with it.
Andy’s jaw hurt from holding it taut.

“Third place,” the judge called. “Banzai Barbecue from Mason, Texas.” Someone in the crowd gave a two-fingered whistle while the Banzai group cheered lustily, then sent their captain forward to pick up his yellow ribbon. “Y’all go on over there and get your picture taken,” the judge said, waving toward the side. “Let’s keep this moving now.”

He glanced down at his sheet and Andy’s hand closed convulsively on Chico’s.

“Second place goes to the Barbecue Apostles from Plainview, Texas.”

Andy blinked. Not the King. She bit her lip, digging her nails into Chico’s hand.

“Could you ease off a little there?” he said dryly. “You’re about to break the skin.”

“Sorry.” She dropped his hand, clenching her fists in front of her.

“First place. This is worth five hundred bucks, folks.”

Andy blew out a breath.
Right. Get on with it.

“First place goes to Barbecue Royale, from right here in Konigsburg.”

The cheers were deafening. Every Burnside relative yelled at full volume and a couple gave two-finger whistles that sounded louder than anybody else’s. Darcy gave the King a slight shove toward the podium, and he glanced back at her, eyes widening.

“It’s yours,” she said softly. “Go get it.”

He stared at her for a moment, then turned and sauntered toward the podium, his grin widening with each step he took. The judge slapped him on the shoulder. “Nice going, son. Nice to see Konigsburg taking the most important trophy.”

The audience laughed, and the King grinned, lifting his hands over his head, Rocky Balboa style.

Andy risked a quick glance at Lew. His face was bright red, his arms folded across his chest, his expression venomous. He cast a furious look in her direction then turned back to the podium again, his hands gathering into fists at his sides.

“All right then, we got one more award.” Rankin was back at the podium, pushing his glasses up his nose. “That’s the grand champion all-around. This one’s for the team that represents the best of ’cue. And it’s five hundred bucks besides. And I’m gonna read this one.” He glared around the room, as if he dared anybody to argue with him.

Andy bit her lip, taking Chico’s hand again. She’d do her best not to dig in her nails this time, but it was close.

At the podium, Rankin unfolded the piece of paper, glaring at the crowd again. “Grand champion at our first Konigsburg Barbecue Cook-Off goes to…Barbecue Royale from right here in Konigsburg.” He looked up at Chico. “Y’all better come pick this one up, son.”

It took the crowd a stunned moment to comprehend what Rankin had said. Then they erupted, the Burnsides yelling at top of their lungs as the other Konigsburgers did their best to top them. Chico looked a little dazed, but he began working his way up to the front of the crowd, followed by the King, through cheering citizens who all seemed to want to pat them on the shoulder.

Andy turned toward Lew. His face was still ripe-tomato red, his teeth still clenched tight. His already-thin lips seemed to have disappeared. She wondered for a moment if he’d charge the stage.

Darcy leaned toward her, grinning as she clapped. “Did we really win this or is it a screw-job?”

Andy shrugged. “We could well have won it. Most competitions base their all-arounds on the way teams place in the various categories. Lew got ribs and then tied with us on pork. Then the King took brisket.”

“So we were tied?” Darcy narrowed her eyes.

Andy shrugged again. “Technically. Actually, I don’t think it matters. They don’t give more than one all-around.”

Darcy put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. The King and Chico grinned as they took the check from Rankin. The crowd roared again as Chico held it over his head.

Chico and the King headed off toward the awards area to pick up whatever trophy the town had decided to give them. Darcy nodded toward Lew again. “Any chance he’ll make trouble?”

Andy looked at him, the flushed face, the abrupt way he turned to his team. She sighed. “Almost certain to, I’d say.”

Of course, making trouble with Chico would be the height of idiocy. She wondered just how stupid Lew had become over the years. Not that he hadn’t started out that way.

Chico was still trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. As far as he could tell, they’d been tied with Burke—one win each and a tie. He had the slightly uncomfortable feeling that they were getting an award for being from Konigsburg. Not that he was going to give it back, regardless.

He’d wondered if Burke would let it go. He wasn’t particularly interested in fighting the prick because it would probably upset Andy, but he might not have any choice, judging from the pissant’s thunderous expression as he pushed his way through the crowd.

Burke ignored Chico and the King totally as he turned to Rankin. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, giving prizes to a team that should have been disqualified to begin with?”

Rankin shook his head. “Basically, it boiled down to your guy’s word against theirs. I talked to all the people in the same row with you and the King. The story was pretty much the same all the way around. Your guy was stupid drunk and he passed out. That tells me he’s not exactly what you’d call a reliable witness.”

Burke’s expression stayed thunderous. “So? That asshole took advantage of a drunk. He sneaked in and closed down the dampers.”